The poetry of Beto Ochoa, Prose from a spiritual warrior

Sunday, March 06, 2011

What can I say How the Shining Sun Through a windowed wall Lit your frame And set to motion Years of daring do That I might be The boldest feathered Or bravest in my skills But ever short of measure

Yet how now here This time complete And after motion set to step The seeking on the road That found the wind Would love my face With judgment never bared Or that the rain would succor me And with the wind show Mighty God What can I say

That you had poked a hole in me A wound still weeping Words and tears Now issue from that break To find their way in scattered drops Staining parchment new and pure Or trail into that wind Blown upon and to My God directed Settled there to find me hence What can I say

And how the one who bravely loved Would go to fisticuffs so quick In my defense yet not enough Was I to hold the wilding there Who wandered too close to tall grass And dragged into that jungle cruel Called to me not follow The beasts devouring soul and flesh Ripping life I could not heal What can I say

The leaves turn fire A few times yet in Oaken Dreams To find this single tear Brace my cheek in solo trail That wanders into nothingness At natures call and rule No meaning in the line But gentle sweetness So hard won that broke upon What can I say

So now I am at Sunset's door There that one Lighted by the windowed wall Had set my feet upon the road Still in that natures grace Found there as a smile Out of reach and cavalier Not knowing how that touch So cruel yet innocent What can I say